


come burn beside me now (before what we have is burnt to the ground)

by MatildaSwan



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Desk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Power Dynamics, Some Hair pulling, played by Anna Chancellor, there's a fair bit of push and pull but everyone is super into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Kate had planned to use the quiet of her study to get some work done. Her wife has other ideas.





	come burn beside me now (before what we have is burnt to the ground)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbianquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianquill/gifts).



> The happiest of birthdays to Nat, the best jellybean in the whole world!!! Surprise! I told you you'd like it :p
> 
> To everyone else reading, a merry festive season! May the new year treat you well, and y'all be merry, gay and bright in the months to come. 
> 
> Note: to fit into the timeline cobbled between Big Finish and the tv series, this is set post _Silenced_ and pre _Death in Heaven_. Probably around _Assembled_ and late 2015 real world time. 
> 
> CW: power play w the dynamic of two ppl in a long term relationship they both know is drawing to a close.

Kate sits at her desk in her warmly lit study. A recent quiet spell on the invasion front gave Osgood a chance to upgrade the internal security systems which, it turns out, also required the Tower to be cleared of all personnel, forcing Kate to coming home early for once, and bring her work with her. Usually she tries not the let work encroach on her home life—the study is merely a hangover from her Doctorate, not a dedicated workstation—but sometimes it simply cannot be helped. 

And she never sniffs at the chance to enjoy some peace and quiet, still a rarity in her own home despite her children now grown and flown the coop. 

Kate makes it halfway through the stack of files she ferried home, which she’s determined to finish before dinner, before she hears the front door open. A flurry of movement echoes up the hallway.  _Damn it,_ Kate curses. _She’s early._

The woman in question is Diana: a frank, brash, _breathtaking_ former field operative who specialised in foreign affairs before the chase caught up to her; her recent years have seen her interest in organising others like chess pieces for the glory of Queen and Country grown exponentially as she settled into a desk job and the promotion it entailed. 

The woman in question is Kate’s wife.

They’d meet nearly two years ago, when Diana had joined Unit on secondment for a brief time. Her skills as a tactician and an operative had proved invaluable, and Kate had fallen hard and fast; stayed splayed out on her back long after Diana’s secondment had ended.  They’d been too lovestruck— _lust_ struck—to see beyond the haze while Parliament debated marriage legislation in the background. When it finally passed, the possibility of actually being able to marry had proved too heady to resist. It’s only now, with the honeymoon phase well and truly over, that the cracks in their foundation have started to show. 

‘Darling?’ Diana’s gravely, low voice travels up the stairs, alluring and grating all at one. Kate tries to shake off the disappointment crawling up her spine: she though the house would be empty for another hour. She might not be home often, and especially not this early, but today she is; she has work to do, and she doesn’t want to be interrupted. She doesn’t reply. 

She reads through another page of Osgood’s latest report before the door of the study swings open. Her wife leans against the frame. 

‘I know you’re home,’ Diana purrs in that silky, haughty, _knowing_ tone that used to drive Kate wild. Now it just makes her teeth itch. ‘I saw the car in the drive.’ 

Kate tries to hide a wince: of _course_ she saw the car, Kate should have expected that. Perhaps a part of her did, and simply wanted to get a rise out of her wife. She really can’t be sure anymore. She doesn’t look up.

‘Are you ignoring me?’ Diana teases, smirking and clearly not even a little put out. Like everything else, this is just a game; the consequences they’re careening too—they both know what they’ll soon become—may be serious, but this is still just a game. One they’re both still prepared to play, for a little while longer, at least. 

‘No, I’m just in the middle of something,’ Kate near snaps, hands gesturing over her work. ‘It’s been busy lately, you know that.’

‘I do,’ Diana replies, her clipped tone almost a threat. ‘It feels like you’re never home.’

Kate sniffs. Her children used to say the same—late Christmases and almost missed birthdays added to a litany of missed milestones: sports days and end of year piano recital and family dinners along with any number of insignificant, tiny, _important_ things that built up over the years; all evidence which finds Kate wanting as a mother, with no defence to make her children understand, maybe even forgive, because she simply couldn’t tell them where she’d been. 

Things are different now, but hearing that still hurts.  

‘Well, I am tonight, but I’ve still got work to do.’ She hadn’t prepared herself for this conversation. ‘I’ll come down and sort dinner in a bit,’ Kate adds, offering out a white flag for a war neither of them declared. She turns away, picks up a file, begins to read. It’s the best way she knows how to dismiss someone without actually telling them to leave. 

‘Oh, I don’t care about _that_.’ Diana slinks across the office, throwing it back in Kate’s face, to rest a finger on the edge of her desk. Kate drops the file with a huff and glares. Diana ignores the irritation, adds to it with a tap…tap… _tap_ of a fingertip on thick mahogany; the rhythm draws Kate’s attention as Diana adds, ‘I planned on eating out tonight anyway.’

The promise in her voice send a shiver up Kate’s spine. She looks up to see predatory gleam shining bring in Diana’s eyes. A rush of heat runs right through her.

‘I said, I’m busy,’ Kate points out, unimpressed. She won’t deny the warmth pooling low in her belly, but she still hates being interrupted. The warning in Kate’s tone is completely ignored; Diana just shrugs, kicking off her kitten heels before padding around the desk in stockinged feet to stand on the other side. She looks Kate dead in the eye.

‘So keep working,’ she challenges, sinking to her knees. She slips through the open back of the desk, crawling forward until her hair brushes over Kate’s thigh. 

Kate gapes at the audacity, at the hands on her belt, unzipping her fly; at the hands under her knees, pulling her forward. Diana nips lightly at her thigh and what little is left of Kate’s resolve slips away **.** She lifts her hips to have her trousers pulled off, knickers eased down to her ankles. She shuffles her feet to step out out of them, leaves them hanging off an ankle, and spreads herself wide; Diana takes it as invitation to smear her lips, hot and filthy, up to the crux of Kate’s thighs. 

Kate hums in the back of her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand falls under the desk. She winds her fingers in her wife’s hair, raking her nails over her scalp and pulling lightly. 

The mouth stops. 

Kate keens, already well on her way to desperate, and tugs. Nothing happens: the mouth stays warm and unmoving against warm flesh. She frowns, leans back to look under the desk to find Diana’s face, framed by milky white thighs and short sandy curls, a smirk on her lips and her brow arched high. 

‘I thought you were working?’ she purrs, fingertips skating a line up Kate’s inner thigh to rest flat alone the jut of her hip bone, keeping her in place. The other removes Kate’s hand from her hair and pushes to back to rest on the arm of Kate’s chair.

‘I _was_ ,’ Kate snarls back, her top lip twisting in a sneer. 

‘Bit difficult to do that with your hands where I can see them,’ she hums lightly, false thoughtfulness, eyeing Kate’s hands: fingers gripping the arms of her chairs. ‘Best get them back on the table,’ she suggests, scraping a thumb nail across a curve.Kate groans, twitches, moves her hands atop the desk. ‘There, that’s better,’ Diana murmurs, punctuated by a pressing a soft kiss to Kate’s inner thigh; Kate almost smiles, before Diana orders, ‘Now get back to work.’

She picks up a file, feigning disinterest in her wife’s antics. Her legs slides over a shoulder and she sits back in her chair. She starts reading in earnest; she really does have work to get done.  

A series of tiny nips, quickly soothed by the tip of tongue, work their way over Kate’s thigh again; She lets her legs open just a touch wider and tongue licks her gently, _softly_. She sighs happily and keeps reading. 

The pressure Diana’s mouth stays constant—sweet, nice, _light:_ easy to ignore—it barely draws her focus while keeping her wet as she reads through to the end of the file. 

It needs a signature and she shifts forward in her chair, reaching out to get a pen.

For a moment, she genuinely forgets about the face between her legs; the mouth moves back to her thigh and bites down hard, two fingers sink deep into her cunt. Kate slams her pen down on the desk: _‘Fuck!’_

Diana’s dark chuck tickles at her bush, tongue swiping at what’s sure to bloom into a mottled bruise. Kate couldn't care less about the mark, far too riled by her wife’s smug, self satisfied, teasing tone. 

‘That kind of language isn’t conducive to workplace productivity,’ she tuts, and Kate almost seethes. ‘You're not setting a very good example, are you?

‘Shut up.’ 

Another chuckle, low and rasping at the back of her throat, and the fingers start moving, slow and deep. Kate keens, legs her legs fall apart as the fingers quicken and she falls back in her chair again, shifting her pelvis to take the fingers deeper. Another bite to her thigh startles her and she jerks her hips forward, gasping.

The fingers still. 

‘Don’t stop,’ Kate grits out, arms quivering with the force of _not_ reaching under the table; she wants to come, she’s not sure how much more of this staccato teasing she can take. 

**‘** No,’ Diana purrs, nosing at Kate’s curls. The tip of a tongue darts out over her clit and Kate hums. ‘You wanted to work,’ she adds lightly, curling the fingers sitting still inside Kate. **‘** So work for it.’

‘How?’ Kate pants out, wound up and wanting. She tries to shift her hips, to work herself against the hand between her legs, but another hand on her abdomen holds her steady. 

‘Read.’

Kate twitches. Kate frowns. ‘What?’

‘What you’re working on,’ Diana clarifies, finally moving the fingers again, a slow steady pressure that starts to uncoil the panic in Kate’s core. She pulls her fingers out to leave just the tips inside her entrance, before sinking deep into Kate and out again. ‘Read. It. Out,’ she orders, her hand moving in time with words. 

Kate mewls, picks up the closest file and starts reading about budgetary expenditure. Diana leans forward, Kate can feel her smirk below her bikini line and groans, as teeth gently graze over her labia, at the razor sharp tongue flicking over her vulva. 

The number get stuck in her throat as Diana licks up to her clit, as her hand starts to work Kate mercilessly, deep and thorough and rough, until she simply can’t speak anymore: her hands ball into fists, creasing the file before she lets go; its pages spread over the table, fall onto the floor, as she cries out.

Kate comes, messy and wet, groaning into the air, her hands safe on the top of her desk: itching to wind short curls around her knuckles and _pull._

She sinks back against the support of her chair, chest heaving, as Diana shuffles out from under the desk. Kate opens her eyes lazily, blinking as Diana straightens and walks around the desk. She stands by Kate’s knee, her chin glistening and her eyes sparkling; she smirks, somehow even more smug and self satisfied than before.

Kate sneers. She spins her chair, buffeting her knee against Diana, buckling her legs as Kate reaches out to pulls her roughly forward. She falls into Kate’s lap, a tangle of limb and surprised, breathy shouts. 

‘I’m going to make you pay for that,’ Kate promises, reaching up to rake her fingers through her wife’s hair, before forcing her mouth down into a fierce, greedy kiss. 

‘God, yes,’ Diana ascents, panting hard, already grinding her hips down lightly. ‘I was hoping you would.’

Kate's top lip twitches. She gathers Diana up in her arms and hefts her up onto the edge of the desk. Makes short work of her dress, almost ripping the zip in the process. One hand pushes the shoulders loose and the other hikes the hem line up her thighs; the dress winds, useless, around her middle. 

Diana leans back, bent at the elbow—she slips slightly on the papers beneath her—lets Kate strip her bare. Sodden material sails over Kate’s shoulder, ends up hanging from the bookshelf, and she pulls Diana forward, flush against her chest. Kate starts nipping at her neck, over her collarbone, raising soft welts on the swell of her breasts. Diana sighs as a mouth envelops a nipple through lace; gasps as two fingers slide inside her. 

Kate moves her hand, steady and deep, and feels Diana open up willing; scrapes her nails up Diana’s back, wrapping short curls around her fingers, before pulling hard. Diana growls at the back of her throat, rough and ragged, and Kate slips in a third with a happy sigh.

They will end soon, they both know, but not now; there’s more of each other to be had, and Kate will take it—will love every second of it—starting now, sneering down at her wife, spread wide on the edge of her desk with three fingers in her cunt, as Kate curls her pinkie in.


End file.
